


Professor Bemelmans' Party

by missdibley



Series: The Cohort [4]
Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Classics!Tom - Freeform, Costume Party, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, OFC Dot - Freeform, OFC Dot Schmidt - Freeform, Smut, au!tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5148725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom begins the day brooding about Dot, then spends the rest of it in her company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Professor Bemelmans' Party

Tom Hiddleston, first year PhD student in classics at one of the finest research universities in North America, lay in bed alone one cold and wet Saturday morning. It was 8:00 am, and he had been awake since half seven.

The plan for the day was to get into his running gear, go for his usual run down 56th Street to the spot where the science museum grounds began to give way to the lakefront beach and back, take a shower, change into proper clothes, eat breakfast (a banana, two strips of bacon, yogurt, and a cup of coffee), then go work at the library. That got him through the afternoon, at which point he would go home, eat another banana, then think about what to do that evening.

According to his Facebook page, Tom was a “Maybe” for Daniel Bemelmans’ annual Halloween party. Bemelmans was a much loved professor and Shakespearean scholar, chair of the English department, and something of a big deal at the university in general. Just about everybody Professor Bemelmans liked, from the blustery university provost to the no-nonsense owner of the Thai restaurant on 53rd Street, would be there, in costume according to the theme specified in the invitation.

Tom grabbed his laptop from his nightstand, opened it, and found the party invite on Facebook. He scrolled down the page, past the people who were not attending but still insisted on posting their excuses (“Sorry, Daniel, but I’ll still be in Jakarta this weekend. Happy Halloween!”). Among the no shows were a number of alarmingly pretty girls, but not the one he was looking for.

There, under the list of people expected to attend the party was one Dorothy D. N. J. Schmidt. Tom changed his reply from “Maybe” to “Going”, clicked Dot’s picture, and waited for her profile page to appear.

It had been two days since Tom’s last assignation* with Dot. He had chosen this word in the quiet moments after he had fucked her on the desk in her office. When he was still lying on top of her, head resting in the crook of her neck, his lips just touching her warm skin. He had been looking for a word to describe what had happened, had been happening, since the first time they were together. When he had nipped down to the stacks at the library to release a little stress. When he turned his head and saw her, eyes wide and lips parted, looking at him in the dark. She ran, he followed, and that was it.

_*The word had nearly been “tryst”, but assignation seemed more sophisticated, even academic which, considering the venues of their encounters, was appropriate._

Thinking of Dot, practically brooding about her, was not in Tom’s schedule for that Saturday. But, he reasoned, if she was going to be at the party, he may as well do a little research.

Dot’s profile picture appeared to be recent. In it, she sat on a low stone wall, curvy legs crossed at the ankle, posing just so in a short black skirt and sweater. Her hair was parted in the centre, and hung loose around her shoulders. She looked to the side, her red lips open as she laughed. The rest of her profile said little about her, which meant that either she hadn’t filled out the rest of her profile, or that she was savvy enough to hide it from the public.

But Tom wasn’t the public. He was her lover, so he thought. He tried to be cross, about not being able to see more of her profile, but found he had no real reason to. He wasn’t entitled to it. They barely knew each other. He knew that she was smart, bold, and funny. She was sexy. He wanted to know more.

Tom set aside his laptop, took himself in hand, and let his memory of their most recent assignation guide him.

The run would have to wait.

* * *

“How many?” The hostess at the Medici looked at Tom expectantly as she plucked a laminated menu from the stand in front of her.

“Just one.” He nodded then followed her into the dining room.

It was still grey outside, but the light was bright enough as it came through the skylight. The light revealed art hanging on brick walls, and t-shirts for sale that read “Obama ate here”. Wooden booths, tables, and chairs showed off decades of graffiti etched or scribbled into their surfaces. The large juicer that made freshly squeezed orange juice hummed as it worked.

The hostess was about to seat Tom at a table set for two when he saw Dot, dressed casually in a grey sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder and black leggings, curled up in a booth. She was lost in a book, reading it closely while drumming her fingers lightly on the side of a stout white mug. He set his bag down at the table and made his way over.

“Dot. Hello. How are you?”

At the sound of his voice, she looked up from under her eyelashes. Her cheeks were rosy and in the grey morning light she looked sweet. Tom realized he had never seen her in daylight before. “I’m good. Tom, what brings you here?”

“Breakfast, I think. I usually eat at home but then I thought ‘Oh, it’s Saturday. I can have my usual banana and yogurt any old day. Why not treat myself? And I only live three blocks away…”

Dot, to her credit, remained impassive while Tom babbled. Inside, however, she was giggling madly. She cleared her throat to interrupt him.

“No, I meant… did you need something? From me?”

“Ah…” Tom shut his mouth before he began to stammer. “No. Just wanted to say hello. So,” he waved his fingers weakly. “Hullo.”

Dorothy closed her book. “Tom, would you like to join me for breakfast?”

“I couldn’t impose…”

“Tom, it wouldn’t be an imposition. Really. I’m a nice person. Come.”

Dot watched him back away, spin around to grab his things, then return to the booth in one smooth gesture. She squinted at him while he examined the menu.

“What was that before?” Dot sipped at her coffee and waited.

“What was what?” Tom fiddled with the paper sleeve from a straw that bobbed in his water glass.

“You were babbling.”

“I was not.” When Tom looked up, he blushed when he saw a gleam in her eye.

“Yes, you were.” Dot placed her hand on his. “Do I make you nervous?”

“What? Of course not.” Tom frowned a little, but didn’t move his hand away from hers.

“Then why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?” At this, Dot flicked the back of his hand with her fingers. “Hey!”

“Like I make you nervous.” Dot sat back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “First of all, for somebody who graduated from Cambridge with all sorts of honors — yes, I did finally get around to reading your CV, thank you — your vocabulary this morning is appalling. All those ‘whats’ and so forth. Secondly, may I remind you that you’ve been inside me? Multiple times. All in the span of, what, a week? If anybody should be nervous, it should be me.”

Tom startled. “Why you?”

“Because beyond your name, your academic resume, what you look like, and how you fuck, I know nothing about you.” Dot shrugged. “You could be an axe murderer for all I know.”

“I could say the same for you!” Tom retorted. “For someone who’s studying all manner of media, provocative media at that, you’re hardly out there. You’re barely on Facebook!”

Dot tried to repress a smirk. “How did you know? Did you look me up?”

“No! Well, sort of.” Tom relented. “I replied to Professor Bemelmans’ Halloween invite on Facebook.”

“Oh?”

“When I said yes, I happened to notice that you were going,” Tom fibbed.

“Okay,” replied Dot evenly. “What else did you learn?”

Tom looked at her. When the waitress finally came over to take his order, he requested tea and a breakfast burrito. He drew himself up and looked at Dot again.

“According to your CV, you graduated from NYU with a degree in film studies, but you attended the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign before that. Why Illinois?”

“I thought I wanted to be a veterinarian when I was 18.”

“Really?” Tom pictured Dot wearing a white coat and holding a puppy, and found that the mental image agreed with him. “What happened?”

“I was wrong.” Dot laughed. “What else?”

“You published your first essays in ‘Critical Impact’ as an undergraduate.”

“That’s right.” Dot nodded. “The journal is published by Lauren Kiehl. She was the person who convinced me to come here.”

“And you’re her TA for…” Tom looked up as he thought. “Three classes, yes?”

“Yep. Gender Studies I and II, and the 300-level course on modern romance in popular culture.”

“How’s that going?” Tom grinned when Dot held up the book she had been reading. “You’re reading that for class?”

Dot hooted. “‘The Bridges of Madison County’? Of course! The class is famous for it. Do you know how humiliating it is to whip this out in the library when everybody else is reading Plato or Hobbes? If my sole accomplishment of note is enabling 20 undergraduates to treat ‘The Bridges of Madison County’ the way they would The Aeneid, my time here will have been well worth it.” She sighed. “This is all academic shit. Easy enough. What else did you find?”

Tom looked at her face, then down at his food and coffee when the waitress arrived with his order.

“Why do you have so many middle initials?”

“My parents can’t make up their fucking minds,” Dot drawled.

Tom nearly spit out his coffee as he laughed. “Seriously, Dot!”

“That’s the truth! I’m named after a couple of people. I don’t use the middle names for legal stuff because it’s unwieldy but on Facebook?” Dot shook her head. “It was the concession I made after my mother friended me and saw that I wasn’t using them there.”

“What do they stand for?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Dot drained her coffee. ”Go on.”

Tom picked up his burrito and bit into it. He chewed carefully as he considered, then swallowed. “Family?”

“Two parents. One brother. All present and accounted for.”

“What are their names?”

“John, Bess, and Harry.”

“What do they do?”

“Well,” Dot stretched her arms over her head and rolled her head. “My parents are retired, and my brother is in the family business.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Is it a secret?” Tom looked concerned. “Obviously, if it is, don’t tell me. But then if you told me it was a secret then that sort of ruins it, doesn’t it?”

Dot laughed. “What? Okay, never mind! Harry’s an entertainer, of sorts. And consults on the side. Is that sufficient?”

“Sure. For now.” Tom wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Two sisters, two parents who are divorced. In case you were wondering.”

“I was.” Dot smiled. “Why do you want to know so much?”

“This is so much? All I know is that you have a family and you used to want to be an animal doctor.”

“I’d say that’s plenty.” Dot picked up her mug, then set it down when she remembered it was empty.

“Who do you look like more, your mother or your father?”

Dot smiled. “Mama.” She nodded. “Definitely Mama. But I have my father’s nose. And his, ah, sense of adventure, as she would say.”

“Does that come in handy? In your line of work?”

She nodded again. “Yeah, in work.” She fixed him with a look. “And in play.”

Tom gulped. “Yes. Lucky for me.” He blushed when she laughed softly. “One more question.”

“Go for it.”

“Do you want to come home with me? Tom looked down at his hands.

Dot’s face stilled before breaking into a knowing smile. “Yes.” She nodded. “Yes.”

* * *

As soon as Tom shut the door behind them at his apartment, Dot held out her hand for him to take. He pulled her gently down a dim hallway into the bedroom at the back. Tom drew the curtains shut but kept the blinds up, so they had privacy but a little light.

She stood at the foot of his bed, permitting Tom to undress her. When he gently raised her arms in the air so he could pull off her sweatshirt, she sighed. “I knew it.”

“What did you know?” Tom kissed the small of her back as he knelt behind her to tug off her leggings, knickers, and boots.

“You have a proper bed. Not one of those crummy futons from Affordable Portables.”

He chuckled as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Mum insisted on a real bed, proper furniture.”

Dot nodded. “She was right.” She hummed a little when Tom slipped a large shawl around her shoulders before tucking her into his bed. “What else did she insist on?”

Tom whipped off his shirt and stood for a moment, still in his jeans and socks. “That I always have decent tea. A kettle that can heat water to different temperatures for different types of tea.” He looked at Dot closely, and found that the sight of her in his bed made him pleasantly warm. “Also that I find a nice girl.”

Dot sat up. “You mean like a girlfriend?”

“Would that be a problem?”

“I’m not interested in having a boyfriend right now.”

“Oh.” Tom shrugged. “Well, I just like you. Is that alright?”

“But you don’t even…” Dot began to say, but Tom raised his hand.

“Yes, you’re going to say that I don’t even know you. But as you pointed out so delicately, I’ve been inside you. To be even more euphemistic, we’ve been intimate on several occasions. Physically, sure. Why not emotionally?”

“But we don’t have to be friends. We can just fuck, right?”

Tom sighed irritably. “Of course. But…” He shook his head. “I’m new here. Far from home. There are a few old classmates of my dad’s at the hospital, good for an occasional beer at Jimmy’s, but none of them are my age. I spend most of my time sitting in that cramped office with Telly, listening to him swear, or in classrooms with overheated teenagers, or in the library, by myself. And…” He looked at his shirt, still in his hands, then back up at Dot.. “Do I have to go on?”

She shook her head. She held her arms out to him. “Come on.”

Tom finished undressing, then crawled into bed. They moved around a bit until finding a comfortable position, her head on his shoulder, turned into him a little so she could rest her hand on his stomach.

“Tell me something about you.”

“Something nice or something naughty?”

“Nice.”

“Erm,” replied Tom as he stared at the ceiling. “I know how to cook exactly one thing.”

“Which would be…”

“Full English breakfast.” He smiled when Dot murmured her approval. “I don’t make it often, though. Your turn.”

“Something nice or something naughty?”

“Nice, madam.”

“Ah.” Dot looked out the window, then up at Tom. She kissed his jaw. “I can walk a tightrope. And do flying trapeze stuff.”

“What?” Tom looked at her in wonderment. “When? How? Why?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“You keep saying that, Dot.”

“Because it’s the truth. I will tell you later. When we know each other better.”

“You mean when we’re friends?”

“Yeah.” Dot kissed his chest. “Tell me something about me.”

Tom looked down at her. “Something nice or something naughty?”

“Naughty,” Dot replied. “Before we get into our feelings too much.”

“You chicken?” Tom murmured.

Dot shook her head. “No, but… not that stuff now. Not all at once. Not yet.”

“Fine.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead then closed his eyes.

“You look like a goddess when you come. When you took my cock into your mouth that first time, I thought I was going to faint from sheer pleasure. And then you told me to come on your chest, and I just… dear God.” His eyes opened, and he looked at her. “But I prefer to come when I’m in you. When I can hold you, see your face up close. Feel your breath on my skin. Pull you in for a kiss. You have a mouth made for kissing. But you know that, surely. And you taste…” Tom paused as he thought. “You taste like sin.”

Dot didn’t know what to say. Certainly men had said all manner of things to her to entice her into bed. But none with the seriousness with which Tom spoke. When she didn’t immediately reply, he began to worry.

“Was that too —?”

Dot cut him off, kissing him deeply. Tom hugged her and when he felt her relax into his embrace, he ran his hands down her back and over her hips. He eased her onto her back, trailing kisses along her neck and down to her collarbone. His hands eased their way to her inner thighs, gently opening her to him.

When he began to move down, stopping to tug on a nipple with his lips, then tickling her navel with his tongue, Dot laughed.

“Come back up here.”

Tom looked up at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“As much as I enjoy the ministrations of your tongue, I would like to skip it.”

“In favor of…?”

“You fucking me.” Dot took a deep breath, then shook her head. “No, just… actual making love.”

Tom planted a kiss in that sweet spot between her sex and her inner thigh, then moved back up and lay beside her. He reached over her and got a condom from the nightstand, groaning slightly as Dot moved her hand down to his cock and began to caress him. Somehow, Tom managed to get the condom out and put it on, gasping when she helped by slowly stroking his cock as he unrolled it.

He kissed her, gently licking at her parted lips as he entered her. Just as before, when they were in her office, he filled her completely, then stopped. Dot swore in his ear, but was soon silenced when Tom kissed her on the mouth again. He didn’t move his hips, instead focusing on kissing her as passionately as he could. When he wasn’t moaning into her mouth, his tongue slowly massaging hers, he was pecking her gently on the cheek. He kissed her sweetly on the temple, then licked behind her ear. When her laughter bubbled out of her mouth, he kissed her there again. He felt her smiling against his lips, and he nuzzled her cheek.

All the while, Dot was in a state of agony and bliss. She wanted him to start moving faster, to begin rocking into her. But his mouth felt too good on her own lips, the crook of her neck, nibbling on her earlobe.

If she had been able to form a thought, she would have tried to remember the last time she was kissed like this. Was there a kiss that had been this slow, this deliberate? Had any kiss ever felt so torturously good? But it was as though her brain had shut down, and given up control to another vital organ, one that she wasn’t used to engaging. There were feelings, sensations and emotions, and they overwhelmed her.

She whined a little, because she was impatient. She wanted to do something that would get things moving at her usual near frantic pace. Dot wanted to come, then get on with her day, get on with her life. When she grabbed his buttocks hard and tried to get him to move, Tom sighed.

“Alright, if you insist.” And then he began to thrust. Shallowly. Slowly. Tom went up a little, making enough space between them so he could slip his hand between her legs and circle her clit with his finger. When Dot ground herself against him, he chuckled. “Patience, Dot.”

So she surrendered. She had asked him to make love to her, to show her what he could come up with. As it happened, not terribly much. Not the usual fireworks as before. At least, not yet. What she felt was enveloping, like slipping into a hot bath to soak after a long day in the cold instead of running through sprinklers under the summer sun. Savoring a single glass of red wine instead of taking a shot of tequila.

In the place of a multitude of little deaths, Dot instead experienced a single descent into… something. For someone who thought she was so self-aware, who was so clever, she felt out of sorts and a little strange.

“Dot.”

She looked at Tom, the way his blue eyes were so focused on her face, and fell into something else. She followed him as he rolled them onto their sides, keeping her eyes on him as he continued to thrust into her now. A little stronger now, a little faster, and she smiled, pressing her forehead to his. His hand on her clit was still light, and she bit her lip when the familiar heat began to build in that sensitive spot.

“Are you…?” Tom whispered. “Because I…”

“Yes.” Dot kissed him, tightening around him as he snapped his hips into her. As she came, he did too. Dot bit down on his shoulder, but he craned his head to find her lips with his. His kisses were urgent, and then were gentler as they began to come down together.

Dot looked at Tom, and considered their post-coital state. Each new assignation (her favorite word for their meetings) was followed by a few moments of silence that seemed to get longer and less awkward. She brushed a few stray curls out of his eyes and kissed his cheek.

“I should go.” When Dot tried to extricate himself from his embrace, he pulled her in tighter.

“Oh no you don’t.” Tom snuggled into her. “It’s too cold out there, and it’s very warm in here.”

“But what if I don’t want to lie here and snuggle? Maybe I’m not the snuggling type?”

“There’s only one way to find out. Hold on…” Tom pulled out, dealt with the condom as quickly as he could, then helped Dot curl up, her back against his chest. “How’s that?”

“Not terrible,” replied Dot. Tom kissed the nape of her neck. “Okay, that was nice.”

“Just nice?” Tom whispered into her hair.

“It was good.” She yawned then smiled to herself as she closed her eyes. “Very good.”

* * *

Dot and Tom startled awake around 5:00 pm, just as the sun was setting. They took turns in the shower, got dressed in pyjamas and wondered about costumes for Professor Bemelmans’s party.

“Are you sure?” Tom sat at the little desk in his living room, frowning at Dot as she paced around the living room. “We can’t just, you know, show up?”

“Oh no no no,” she insisted. “The whole point is to dress up. Seriously, people remember the folks who don’t wear costumes just as much as those who do.”

“Whatever for? It’s just a holiday.”

“No, it’s entirely political. I know it seems like he invites everybody but it’s absolutely not true. Sure, he invites the provost, but not the university president. His invitation to the Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations department is extended only to the Egyptologists.” Dot shook her head. “It’s very complicated.”

“And not terribly generous, I’m afraid.”

“I think he lets it go to his head,” Dot said thoughtfully. She looked at Tom closely. “We had an affair, you know. Me and Professor Bemelmans. Last year. My first quarter.”

“Really? Are you okay?” Tom smiled when Dot joined him at the desk, standing by his side while she combed her fingers through his hair.

“Yeah. It’s fine. It wasn’t serious, but he was kind of a jerk about it. Made a big show about telling me about all the other girls who came before me when I broke up with him.”

“Should we not go then?” He took her hand in his and squeezed it. “Would it be terrible?”

Dot smiled. “No. It’ll be fine.” She leaned down and pecked him on the lips. “You’re so sweet.”

Tom popped up and put his hands on her shoulders. “So is it a date, then?”

Dot reached up and booped his nose. “Yes, sir. I’ll even buy you a corsage.”

* * *

Because they had spent the entire day in bed, Dot didn’t have time to rush home and put together a costume. Tom gave her a clean bedsheet to fashion into a gown that, with the addition of a few pieces of jewelry and some ribbon she always kept tucked away in her bag, became a Cleopatra costume after she straightened her hair as best she could.

Tom’s toga was a bit clumsy, but his admirers did not seem to care much as it showed off his long legs and arms, and his wide shoulders. The wreath around his head had been made by Dot from a few leaves she found in his backyard, and a shoelace.

As the party was in full swing by the time they arrived at the professor’s greystone on Blackstone Avenue, nobody noticed that they came in together. They didn’t hold hands but Dot did permit Tom to place a hand on the small of her back. Dot introduced him to people outside of his department, and it made her happy to see him get acquainted so easily.

After they ran into her mentor, Professor Kiehl, in the library, Tom noticed their cups were empty. He smiled at Dot. “This is a problem. We’ve no wine. Back in a mo, ladies.”

The professor noticed a slight flush come over Dot’s chest, pulling her protégé in close when Tom headed off towards the kitchen.

“He’s nice.” She looked at Dot. “Are you two…?”

Dot nodded. “Yes.”

The older woman smiled. “Is he your…?”

“No!” Dot protested, a bit louder than she meant to. “He’s nice. We’re just, ah, keeping company.”

“Liar.” The professor giggled. “He’s totally your boyfriend. The hot new thing in Classics is taken by the biggest heartbreaker this side of the Mississippi.”

“Lauren, have you been reading romance novels again?”

“Of course, Dorothy! It’s research. For class. You know that!” She bit her lip, then laughed. “But come on. He’s a catch, and you know it.”

Dot’s face brightened when Tom returned with wine for all of them. He had just spilled a little on himself when they were joined by their host.

Daniel Bemelman looked good for his 55 years, almost good enough to pull off the red velvet coat and leather trousers he wore. The crown on his head indicated that he was a king, but which one?

“Henry V,” he proclaimed. “My favorite of the kings in the plays. Good for the sexy Shakespearean theme, I think.”

“Of course,” Professor Kiehl murmured while rolling her eyes.

“Lauren, who are you this evening?” Professor Bemelmans sipped his wine, peering at her over the top of his glass.

“Titania from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” She looked at her batiked gown and adjusted the flowers in her hair. “Being an old hippie came in handy, as I didn’t have to go far for my costume.”

“You look like you haven’t even left bed! What kind of a Cleopatra are you?” Professor Bemelmans loomed over Dot, who pushed him back.

“The lazy kind,” Dot drawled. “I just rolled myself up into this sheet and up to the party.”

The older man laughed, then slapped his hand on Tom’s back. “And you, boy?”

“Antony, sir.” Tom said. He moved a little closer to Dot, but did not move to touch her.

“Of course.” The older man nodded. “Just know that Dorothy’s bite is more poisonous than the asp that killed Cleo.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake…” Professor Kiehl glared at him. “Give it a rest, Daniel.”

“I’m only joking. How else do I defend myself against Dorothy’s suitor? What’s your name again?”

“Thomas Hiddleston. Everybody calls me Tom.”

“Tom.” Professor Bemelmans’s echoed. His eyes narrowed. “Does she call you that?”

Tom felt himself grow cold. “What?”

“When you’ve got Dot pinned underneath you, or your face is buried between her luscious thighs…”

“Jesus Christ, Dan!” Dot reared back. “Still an asshole, I see, and you still can’t hold your liquor.”

Professor Kiehl shook her head. “You two get going. I’ll see if I can’t drag our host here into the kitchen where one of his minions can sober him up.”

“Are you sure?” Tom asked. “I could help you with him.”

“Don’t worry. I got him. Now you two get going, salvage the rest of your evening.”

Dot nodded. “Of course, Lauren. Thank you. See you Monday.”

Tom and Dot had been walking for a few minutes, taking 58th Street west from the party before they turned north on Kimbark Avenue, when he decided to ask.

“What ever did you see in him?”

Dot shook her head. “He was so wordly, and he recited Shakespeare so beautifully. I was never a big fan of the plays, but I always loved the sonnets. Fortunately, we weren’t together long enough for him to ruin Shakespeare for me forever.”

“What changed your mind about him?”

“Well, in case it wasn’t obvious, he’s rude. A misogynist. Also? Not to be completely shallow, but he was a terrible kisser!”

Tom laughed with her. “His loss. My gain.”

When Dot rolled her eyes, he stopped and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Tom, what?”

“I’m serious. You’re a nice person. He fucked it up with you. He doesn’t know anything.”

“But he knows Shakespeare. Do you?” As soon as Tom cleared his throat, Dot groaned. “Oh no…”

“Sorry, Dot. But I know a gauntlet when it’s been thrown before me.” He nuzzled her cheek, then whispered in her ear.

 _Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale_  
_Her infinite variety. Other women cloy_  
_The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry  
_ _Where most she satisfies._

Dot brought her hands up to his shoulders and kissed him. “Okay. Now I’m definitely letting you get to second base tonight.”

“Is that baseball? What’s the equivalent in cricket? Help this English boy understand your strange American ways?”

She took Tom’s hand and placed it gently on her breast. “That’s second base. And if you’re very good…” Dot pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll go show you what a homerun is.”

“Didn’t we go over that earlier?” Tom grinned when Dot nodded.

“Yes. We did.” She hugged him. “But we should probably go over the lesson again. Just in case.”


End file.
